


Powerless

by morganaDW (morgana07)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Additional Warnings Apply, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother Dean, Bottom Sam Winchester, Brother Feels, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Time, Fucking Machines, Graphic Description, Graphic Violence, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, RBB 2020, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Top Dean Winchester, Triggers, Violence, Wincest - Freeform, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morganaDW
Summary: Fights and lies have driven a wedge between the Winchesters so when Sam wakes up to find himself confronted by one of his worst fears he must choose if the changes Hell made to his brother have finally crossed a line or if the sudden violence he's powerless to prevent is something more.Secrets both Sam and Dean are forced to face will also decide their fate and future.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the 2020 RBB on Livejournal. It is also the first story I've written in quite some time. Thanks to Deeranger for the art prompt as it was great to write for and to my ever wonderful, ever patient beta lotrspnfangirl for going over it.
> 
> This is a slightly dark piece so read the tags, take in any warnings for the graphic, non-con related scenes especially if you trigger easily but be assured that despite it all there will be a happy ending... eventually.
> 
> Warnings: Extreme graphic violence, non-con/rape both on scene and implied as well as non-con drugging of character so trigger warnings will apply for the first two chapters, especially chapter two. Graphic language is also used. 
> 
> Yes, there will be healing and a happy ever after (this is one of my stories afterall but there is dark stuff before that. This piece is set in Season Four and after events from 4x14 thru 4x17 so in case you haven't caught up to those episodes yet there might be slight spoilers in some cases.
> 
> Art By: deeranger
> 
> Beta'd by: Lotrspnfangirl

**Powerless**

**Chapter One**

Pain. It was the sharp, stabbing sensation shooting up from the base of his spine into the back of his head that brought a groggy, confused Sam Winchester closer to the edge of consciousness. He couldn’t push back into awareness completely, something keeping his mind and body from fully connecting. 

Groaning, he tried to reach back to touch the base of his skull where the worst of the pain was coming from. It only took a few seconds for the hunter to realize his hands had been tied behind his back. The next thing he realized was not only were his ankles tied, but they’d been pulled up and connected with the rope binding his wrists, effectively hog-tying him.

Fighting the brief surge of panic Sam could feel rising in his chest, he forced himself to ignore the pain and attempted to shift his body, moving his head so he could at least see where he was. If he was lucky, he might even get an idea of what the hell was happening. As his shoulder slid against the ground, it suddenly hit him that not only had he also been gagged and blinded, some type of thick cloth over his head, but that he was also naked.

The last realization nearly overrode Sam’s best attempts to not panic; while waking up tied and gagged were things to be concerned over, doing their fair share to hit a few of his larger panic buttons, the fact that he was also naked told the confused hunter that whatever the hell was happening was worse than anything he could think of.

As the fog in his brain began to clear, the hunter forced himself to stay still and take a slow, deep breath through his nose. It proved to be a bad move, causing him to nearly gag at the foul smell that flooded his senses. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was coming from the hood itself or wherever he was, and that was another thing -- he was definitely not still at the motel that he and Dean had - _Dean_.

A flash of memory hit the hunter as he struggled to put the pieces of scattered, painful thoughts together of how the hell he’d ended up in this position. As he tried to compose his memory, a bigger concern began to nibble at the back of his mind, succeeding in overriding his original sense of panic with terror anew.

He forced himself to inhale the foul smelling air in an attempt to clear his foggy mind. Sam had to close his eyes to try and stop the little white dots that had begun to swirl and cloud his vision. He knew passing out, as well as throwing up while gagged, was not an option at the moment.

While trying to listen for any type of noise that might clue him in to where he’d been taken, the younger Winchester struggled to bring back his last, fleeting memories.

The hunter recalled the run down motel they’d chosen to stop at in some small town in Louisiana. The case he’d picked up appeared to be a simple vengeful spirit, a simple salt and burn was something both Winchesters decided would be good for them. Given their most recent cases, and after recent crap that continued to rain down on them, the tension between them only seemed to increase and put Dean more on edge.

Sam had _known_ the moment his older brother had returned from four months, or really forty years, trapped and tortured in Hell after selling his soul to protect Sam, to learn of things Sam had done in that time, wouldn’t go well.

The fights between them were _bad_ and Sam knew both of them had said and done things to hurt the other recently. It came to a head, however, during that mess with the goddamn Siren. The creature had managed to screw with both of their heads and nearly got them both killed. If Bobby hadn’t gotten to them in time...

Of course, it wasn’t only the words said between them that Sam knew had caused things to be tense and awkward between them, but between the mess with the reapers and Pamela’s death, the crap stunts by Zachariah and the other angels forcing Dean to confront a multitude of darkness, past and present, and Dean learning what Sam had done to Alastair... it didn’t seem like they’d ever have time to talk about the issues that were once again threatening to tear them apart. Sam almost laughed at the idea. It didn’t look like Dean was even interested in talking to him. Not going by the way he dropped Sam off at the motel with a muttered excuse to go grab food and find a bar.

A brief whisper of a cold breeze graced Sam’s back, making him shiver and try to twist away. He didn’t budge, however, and he became aware of just how heavy his body was. He tried to breathe through the next wave of panic threatening to overwhelm him as the memory of a needle piercing his neck entered his mind. A second memory flooded over the first, and Sam briefly recalled the too hot, too steamy hotel room, with it’s useless shower, and too many thoughts of Dean in a way that he was struggling to avoid. The motel phone had rang and saved him from that particular sin, and it was after that that Sam’s memories became more spotty. 

He’d hastily thrown on a towel, running out of the bathroom to answer the phone. The hotel manager informed him his brother had locked himself out of their room and was requesting for Sam to open the door ‘before their damn food got cold’. Sam did, or at least… he thinks he did. He at the _very_ least unlocked the door so Dean could come in. Then there was pain, sharp and sudden. Sam remembered the solid, metal door opening and shutting with a _bang_ , though the order of those might have been reversed… 

The sound of slamming door vibrated through his very bones, shaking Sam to the core, but everything was drowned out by the heavy steps approaching him. Sam struggled in his binds as he remembered the sound, the boots so much like Dean’s but they _weren’t_ , they couldn’t have been. He tried not to hyperventilate as the memory took over, pulling him down into panic. The last thing he could remember of the hotel room was the pain in the center of his chest and vibrant green eyes he knew so well. 

Sam was just vaguely aware of his entire body taught, the rope biting into his flesh. His fingers and toes were nearly numb, and a sob fell from his mouth from under the gag. But he could still hear those footsteps, real as the cold air on his skin. He suddenly jerked as calloused fingertips ran down his arm. For the first time since waking up, the hunter was glad for both the gag and hood, the situation was even worse than he’d feared. The voice that spoke both chilled him and terrified.

“Hey, little brother. Guess it’s time we had some fun.”

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the chapter with the darkest of the violence, non-con elements so be warned.

**Powerless**

**Chapter** **Two**

“Hey, little brother. Guess it’s time we had some fun.” 

Even with the hood over his head and the drugs still coursing through his veins, helping to distort the sound, Sam Winchester would know the deep voice of his older brother even in his sleep. Currently, Dean’s voice was even deeper, laced with a rougher tone that told the younger man whatever had been boiling between them since Dean’s return from Hell had finally boiled over. He winced internally. It was much worse than Sam had ever thought. 

There’d been plenty of fights, both verbal and physical, but Sam hadn’t seen whatever the hell this was coming.

Ever since the angels forced Dean to torture Alastair, Sam feared for his brother. Dean had been on edge and drinking more, but the drive down to Louisiana had seemed fairly calm, almost like it used to be between them. 

The night they arrived, Dean had been more tense as he’d dropped Sam off at the motel to go get food, but Sam blamed his damn cell phone going off despite telling Ruby to stop calling him. Struggling to still put the scattered pieces together of what had happened, Sam started as the touch returned, fingers sliding down his back. His stomach twisted at the realization that in a different set of circumstances, this would’ve been a dream. He spent far too many nights wishing to feel Dean’s touch, but this wasn’t the way he wanted it. 

“Before you burn your too-big brain up overthinking what might be happening here, let me spell things out.” Dean’s tone was rougher, colder than usual when he spoke, and his voice was accompanied by cold metal trailing down the length of Sam’s spine. There was a small flutter of hope in Sam’s chest as he felt the ropes connecting his wrists and ankles loosening, but Dean quickly squashed that.

“First, I’m cutting your ankles loose. We both know you won’t be running anywhere, and the drugs I’ve given you will make sure you won’t kick me. Hell, you ain’t gonna be doing a damn thing unless big brother tells you to,” Dean went on coldly, using the ropes still binding Sam’s wrists to jerk the confused, naked hunter to his knees. “Secondly, I’ll remove the hood, if you’re lucky maybe the gag, and I think you can use your imagination to picture what I’ll be doing next.” 

Sam struggled to make words around the gag in his mouth, the only sounds that escaped were whimpers. He groaned as his brother’s comment about drugging him registered, giving an answer as to why Sam’s body felt so heavy.

Ever since he’d been old enough to fake his way into bars, Dean had drilled into him to watch his drink. There were plenty of drugs that could be used to knock him out or make him pliable for robbery or assault. Sam knew about those, had been on the wrong end of them once before, but this time he hadn’t been at a bar... and he didn’t understand where his brother would’ve gotten his hands on those kinds of drugs, much less the reason why.

Sam felt rough denim forcing his thighs apart, calloused fingers reaching down to grab Sam’s limp cock and began jerking it. Sam’s stomach twisted as hot lips locked over one rock hard pebble on his chest and he strained to pull away, to fight, to wake up from this hopeless nightmare.

“Hold still, boy!” snapped a rough voice that wasn’t even close to Dean’s, angry that Sam wasn’t following the script. “You want this, don’t you? You’ve wanted to feel my hands on you since you were how old, Sam? You want to feel me shove my cock in your ass, in your mouth? You want me to see how hardcore you’ve gotten since St. Louis, after you’ve been fucking that demon bitch while your precious big brother was rotting in hell!”

Fighting against the drugs that were keeping his body still, he tried to push back the building fear that was starting to choke him more than the gag in his mouth. There were too many images flashing of what he could feel happening to him and what he feared his brother was capable of. Dean was a changed man since his time in Hell, with all the buried rage he carried now after learning about Sam using his powers, his time with Ruby, and their exchanges during the Siren mess.

A low chuckle cut through his thoughts, the fingers working Sam’s cock tightening with each jerk as if the man was _trying_ to cause pain. He forced the hunter hard before slipping a ring of some kind around the base.

“You’re not as hard as I would like, but it’ll work for the moment,” Dean remarked almost casually before giving the hood a swift yank. He smirked down at a rapidly blinking Sam. “Hey, little brother, have you figured it out? Or are you still a bit scrambled from the drugs and me slamming your head into that motel door?”

Sam hadn’t expected the hood to be removed, the sudden burst of light from the two fluorescent lights hanging above him taking him off guard and he found himself blinking to clear the spots from in front of his eyes. A sudden wave of nausea hit him as his blurry vision slowly returned, but he was able to make out enough around him to realize he was in an old cellar of some kind. 

Sam had known by the voice that he’d be looking at his older brother’s rugged face. Dean’s deep, green eyes were just as familiar as the smirk Sam knew so well. It was the look Dean used in bars or when mouthing off to their Dad, or defying the angels. Still, even knowing so, it shocked him.

Dean that knelt in front of him, casually holding the demon knife, and looking like Sam’s brother right down to the rugged jaw, cocky smile, and hard green eyes. He had the cold as steel, dripping with anger voice, too, but that was where the similarities ended and Sam’s concern grew. 

The red shirt and blue jeans were too clean, too new looking, and not nearly wrinkled enough to have been shoved in a duffel, bouncing around the back of the Impala for a few weeks. The way he crouched down was wrong, off… less confident then Dean _always_ was. Though the biggest tip off that this, whoever it was, was not his brother was the lack of Dean-staple jewelry. His chest was bare, no bronze amulet hanging over his shirt, and the silver ring Dean never removed was missing. 

Over the years, the brothers had fought a variety of monsters, but there was only one that Sam knew of that could mimic a form well enough to fool even those closest to them. Absorbing a person’s memories was a little trickier, but as Sam knew only too well, it could be done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was damn close. Sam feared he knew what his captor was. 

“I’ll take the gag out, even if you scream for help? There’s no one around here that could hear you or help you.” The thing with Dean’s face smirked, reaching up to jerk the gag out of Sam’s mouth. “Speak, little hunter. Tell me what you’ve figured out.”

“You’re…” Sam’s mouth was too dry to even work up a spit, his tongue was heavy and felt like cotton, but after a couple swallows he tried again. “You’re… not my… brother,” he got out, voice ragged and barely there from being gagged so long, slurred from the drugs.

“Oh, I can be! And truthfully, up until a little while ago, I planned to keep up the act, to let you think your hero had gone totally off the rails. Man, we thought you boys were emotionally screwed up in St. Louis a couple years back... but now? If half of what I picked up from him during a surface scan was true? You’d be luckier if I just killed you when I’m done playing. Of course, I haven’t decided if I want to keep you as a pet. Not much for me to worry about. Given the way you and big brother seem to be fighting, I doubt he’ll even look for you,” the shifter sneered, using the tip of his finger to force Sam’s chin up as the hunter tried to look away. Sam fought to school his emotions over the very real possibility that Dean might actually not look for him.

“Keep your head up and those pretty eyes on me while I explain the rules of this game, little hunter.” The shifter raised the demon knife and Sam briefly wondered what else he’d taken from the motel. 

Sam hated being unable to move, powerless to fight back against his captor. Sam succumbed to his memories of St. Louis and their first experience with a shifter, until a sharp slap across the face snapped him back.

“Pay attention!” The shifter snapped angrily, pressing the tip of the knife against Sam’s face. He applied just enough pressure that a small line of blood welled up from the cut, rolling down Sam’s cheek. “I’m curious as to what you think I am. I am sure you’ve figured it out by now… Tell me!” he snapped, grabbing a handful of thick dark hair, yanking Sam’s head back to expose the line of his throat to the very sharp blade.

“S-shifter!” Sam gasped out, feeling the knife’s edge press harder against his flesh. He fought to swallow in order to get enough spit to wet his mouth to answer. “You’re… a… a shifter. Now, go to hell! _Argh!_ ”

A sharp, searing pain shot up from the base of his cock, making him scream and jerk, despite the knife still held to his throat.

“Like that, Sam?” the shifter sneered, switching off the remote that controlled the intensity of the shock cockring. “This little ring I put on your cock is just one of several toys I have to play with. I’ll shock you if you even try to fight, or if I just want to hear you scream, baby.” He moved the blade away but kept his hold of Sam’s hair, leaning in to lick a stripe up the hunter’s throat, chuckling at the tiny jerk he felt. “Can’t move, Sam,” he reminded his captive, lips moving up to whisper in Sam’s ear. “In fact, I don’t want to hear you _speak_ unless I order it or you’re moaning for me. Right now? Right now, I want you to use that pretty mouth for something else.”

Sam was fighting back panic as well as the sick rolling in his stomach. There were too many times he’d been in a similar situation and he feared just what this shapeshifter had in store. There was very little doubt in his mind that this attack was revenge for what he and Dean had done in St. Louis.

A quick glance around his stark prison showed just a few of what the shifter considered ‘toys’. The rest of the darkened room made it clear this place had obviously been set up to be used as a torture chamber/sex pit.

Sam forced himself to focus on his captor. The grip on his hair shifted and he tested his immobility, hoping the drugs would start to wear off soon. Then, he had to struggle not to puke when the shifter crushed his mouth down on Sam’s in a savage kiss. It was all tongue, teeth, and force as Sam tried to fight, tried to keep his mouth closed to prevent the offending tongue’s intrusion.

“Kiss me like you’ve been wanting to kiss your big brother, baby.” The shifter growled against Sam’s lips, using the grip he had on the hunter’s hair to pull the helpless man closer to him. His free hand slid up Sam’s stomach to fondle his chest. “Kiss me like you’ve wanted to since you were sixteen, _Sammy_. I know you want to, even though you think your hero would freak out if he knew how big of a sick freak you were for lusting after your big brother.”

Sam wanted to strain, to fight, to kick this bastard in the balls. He knew this nightmare was going to be even worse than what the shifter in St. Louis had done the second he felt his body start to respond. 

As he felt himself kiss back, and heard the low, triumphant laugh of his captor, the hunter felt himself give up hope. He’d rather die here than ever let Dean walk in on this scene, much less hear the things coming out of this creature’s mouth in between its assault of roughly kissing Sam’s mouth, it’s tongue slipping inside until Sam thought he might choke. 

“God, you kiss so good, Sam,” the shifter crooned, licking and sucking his way down Sam’s throat, to his chest before suckling one rock hard nipple. “Dean doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Standing, the shifter shoved its fingers against Sam’s chest, pushing the bound and off balance hunter back onto the cold, dirt covered cement floor. As if he knew what Sam had been thinking, he smiled slowly and sneered, “You can’t kick me, no matter how bad you want to.” Shifter Dean slowly began to unbutton the red shirt he wore, eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “I never did tell you why I changed my plan to let you think your hero was the one raping you.” He used the toe of a boot to shove Sam’s legs apart, gaze moving down at the naked hunter’s body with a gleam of lust in deep green eyes. 

“One of my kind let me know the fabled Winchester brothers had been seen in St. Luc’s! And my plan changed as soon as I passed your hero in the diner.Y’see, shifters are a family. Yes, there are different clans, but in the end we’re all one. What happens to one of us affects the rest to some degree. So, that mess you and your hero caused in St. Louis took family from me and mine,” he went on, dropping his shirt to reach for the snap of the jeans. Its lips curved into a cruel smile that Sam hadn’t never seen on Dean. “Oh, we know Dean actually did the killing, but he did it to save _you._ Under other circumstances, I might’ve tried to use you as bait to lure him into a trap to kill him. I can imagine the pain it would cause to have him watch himself torture and rape his precious little brother... but I decided it best to handle you boys one at a time.

“I’ll be able to take my time, doing things to you that my kin in St. Louis never imagined, and this time? Big brother won’t be coming to the rescue, this time. I made sure it looked like you walked away, abandoned your brother again. I gathered from my scan that you boys are having some issues, so I doubt Dean will even give a damn, even _if_ he suspects something isn’t right.” 

He knelt down between Sam’s legs, the muscles of Sam’s thighs twitching as he strained, fighting for the ability to resist. The shifter leaned in, voice dropping low. “Big brother probably went back to the cheap ass motel, saw you and your things were gone, and drank away any concern he had. He probably decided you ran off with the demon you’d been fucking while he was rotting in Hell.”

Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, the shifter pulled out a pair of clamps, a chain attaching them, and smiled at the way Sam’s breathing hitched. “I plan on taking my time with you, hunter, and that means pulling out all my nifty toys...” He made a sweeping motion around them. “As you can see, you’re not the first toy I’ve caught. Though you _are_ the one I’ll take care not to use up or bleed out too fast.”

Everything his captor was saying, every time it mentioned his brother, both terrified and pissed him off. From their experience in St. Louis, there were still things his brother refused to broach or allow him to explain. Sam wanted to tell him about his not so brotherly feelings and about the things he knew Dean had given up in order for Sam to go to college. Knowing a little about what happened in Hell to Dean caused a cold ball of dread to form in Sam’s stomach. He could only imagine what the shifter picked up with his scan, and Dean had no idea there was danger in the small, sleepy Louisiana town.

Sharp pain jerked him out of his thoughts as the first nipple clamp was attached and brought a gasp to his lips. Sam heard himself moan instead of the weak cry of pain he expected, and he jerked his eyes up in surprise to see darkening green eyes watching him with a sneer.

“Every cry of pain, every scream you try to make will be a moan or whimper, baby,” the shifter explained before leaning closer, taking Sam’s other nipple in his mouth and rolling it slowly with his tongue until he felt it get harder. He pulled back with a smirk and then he attached the other clamp. “You might want to scream for help, you might want to fight, but the drug I’ve created will make it so all you’ll be able to do is moan for more and respond to me… just like you would to Dean . You know,” the shifter whispered, pulling the chain between the clamps tight, “he’s wanted to. Wanted to fuck you since you were fifteen.”

Sam struggled to shake his head, to deny, but the cock ring gave another burst of high-level shock at the base of his cock and Sam’s body jerked up as much as he could with the shifter putting pressure on his hips. He screamed out in pain, horrified to hear a low moan of pleasure come out of his mouth.

By the time the shock was over, he was dimly aware that the chain on the nipple clamps had been attached to the cockring. Then what the shifter had said began to register. He wanted to laugh in the thing’s face, or maybe punch him, but then he was too busy fighting back nausea. He could feel rough denim slide against his cock as the shifter pinned the naked hunter to the dirty floor with his body, his tongue invading Sam’s mouth once more.

“Remember what my kin did to you in St. Louis, Sam?” The shifter asked, breathless. Sam felt the creature’s cock growing, straining the denim he still wore, the hot, hard line of it pressing into Sam’s thigh. “Remember when he tied you to that pool table, stretched those long limbs out on the table and played pool with you?” He moved, lining his hips with Sam’s and pressing down into his crotch. He bit down, hard, on the straining hunter’s collar bone just to illicit a small moan. “It’s _nothing_ compared to what I plan to fuck you with! Get up!”

Sam wished he could shut his mind down so he didn’t have to witness what was about to happen. He still had nightmares about St. Louis, intermingled with the various other trauma’s he’d experienced, some he hadn’t even allowed his brother to know about.

It was bad enough for the younger Winchester that he was helpless to the shifter’s games, but he felt sick that he was helpless to his own body responding. While he had the excuse of the drugs, it was still Dean, and the guilt was almost as overwhelming as the fear and disgust. The shifter dragged Sam to his feet and yanked him against Dean’s hard body. Sam wanted to retreat into his own head as he’d done before, but he was trapped, his mind as much a captive to the monster’s drugs as Sam himself was.

“Kiss me again, Sammy,” the shifter smirked as he felt the way his captive tensed at the use of Dean’s nickname. “Don’t like me calling you that, huh, baby? Too bad. Cause until I’m done with this ass? I’ll call you whatever the hell I want. Kiss me, Sammy, like you goddamn mean it or else it’ll be my fist going up that tight ass before my toy over there!” He growled, using the chain between the nipple clamps and cock ring to pull Sam flush against him.

Hearing himself whimper sickened Sam, but no more than being forced to kiss this thing with his brother’s face. Its tongue was once again inside of Sam’s mouth, pushing deeper until Sam was certain he’d choke. The shifter pulled back with a laugh.

“You need to practice using that mouth, baby, but we have time. Right now, I’m going to use my favorite toy to get you ready to take me.” He grabbed Sam’s hair again to drag him over to the far wall where a bench was set up. “Need me to explain what a fucking machine is?”

Sam tried to dig his heels in, to pull back, but could only moan a scream as his captor showed his displeasure by shocking his cock.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy… I really don’t want to hurt. Not this soon! But I will if you keep trying to fight me” The shifter yanked on Sam’s hair, forcing him to kneel on the bench. Sam’s hands were freed for only a moment before his wrists were pressed into steel cuffs attached to a high bar. He could feel his ankles become clamped in a metal bars behind him, knees spread and separated to the side of the bench. There was a brace that attached to his throat, meant to force his head to stay at waist level, and it was the part that nearly did him in. 

“Good boy,” the shifter cooed as Sam’s pliant body was put into place. “Say your brother’s name, pet. Moan it for me while I set up the other piece of my toy.”

Wondering if the tear he felt like shedding really did roll down his face, Sam heard his own voice, weak and raspy, obey this latest order. “D… Dean.”

“So good, baby... I think I like hearing you moan his name. Maybe I’ll have you say it while this little baby is working to fuck you open for me.” The shifter attached a dildo to the end of the fucking machine, strapping it in place on the bench and aligning it with Sam’s ass. He ran the tip of his finger around Sam’s puckered rim, slapping Sam’s ass hard as the hunter swallowed back a whimper. “No! I want to hear you! No words except his name and begging him to fuck you. Now, moan for me!” he ordered, shoving his fingertip deep into Sam’s hole and groaning low in his throat. “Damn, you’re tight. This’ll be more fun than I thought; for me at least.”

Unable to see the size of the dildo that was about to be shoved into his ass, Sam tried to prepare himself for the agony. He didn’t want to give the sadist the satisfaction of hearing him moan or scream, but at the first touch of the low whirring sound to his rim, he knew that idea was useless. 

The small layer of lubricant on the dildo did next to nothing as the shifter clicked his machine from slow to medium speed. He stepped back to watch the thick, good sized toy shove mercilessly into the unprepared hunter’s ass. He smiled at the low moan falling from Sam’s mouth, knowing it was truly a scream of pain. He moaned himself, the scene before him getting him hotter, and he shed his boots and jeans to _finally_ give his own already hard and leaking cock some relief. 

“Say his name!” he snapped, stepping to the front so the glassy eyed hunter could see him fully naked and understand what would soon be happening. “Say it!” he growled while hitting both the remote to the cockring and the fucking machine to increase the strength of both.

“Dean!!” Sam could mentally see the dildo speeding up as it worked itself in and out of his very likely bleeding ass. 

“Good. Now beg him, beg me, Sam.” The shifter could tell by his large glassy eyes that Sam was going into shock, and he smiled, knowing the hunter would be more susceptible to the drugs that way. He began stroking his cock with one hand, grabbing a handful of Sam’s hair with his other, and causing another cry/moan that made his cock twitch. But the stubborn boy was actually trying to clench his jaw to keep from obeying. “Damn you, hunter! Beg!” 

A slap to the face at the same time as the dildo increased its tempo again broke what resolve Sam still had left. “D-Dean… _please_.”

“Please what, bitch?” the shifter sneered, loving the way he was slowly seeing bits of Sam’s will to fight dissolving. 

“Fuck me!” Sam sobbed, unable to fight the burning in his veins or the pain of having his ass split open by the dildo at the same time as the shock at the base of his cock. “Please…”

“Oh, that’ll come soon enough, pet.” The shifter smirked, stepping up closer with his dripping cock held in his hand. “First though, you’re gonna suck me off until I come down your throat. I’m sure you’re hungry, baby brother, and it’s the only way I plan to feed you. So open up.” 

This time, Sam didn’t care about the agony, he struggled to lock his jaw. But strong fingers were soon prying his jaw open and the dripping head of the shifter’s huge, engorged cock was shoved into his mouth. He had to fight not to choke, his eyes tearing up, and tried to remember to breathe through his nose as his mouth was assaulted.

Laughing as he and his machine fucked Sam from both ends, the shifter ran his fingers back through sweat soaked hair. “Has your hero ever told you about Hell, Sam?” he asked almost conversationally, calmly stroking Sam’s hair like he figured his brother would, knowing that would hurt the boy more. “Granted, I could only do a surface scan in that diner... enough to be able to mimic his body and voice. But even in that brief glimpse I saw things that will certainly come in handy if I or one of my kin decides to pay big brother a visit. 

“I mean, it’s no wonder he’s pissed off! After he sold his soul to a demon to be tortured in Hell for his precious baby brother, how did you repay him? By fucking around with a demon!” He tightened his grip in Sam’s hair and pulled, despite the metal collar not allowing much give. “Did he tell you the reason he gave in after so long, Sam? Did the big brother that you’ve idolized so much, that gave up everything including his life for you, tell you that _you_ were the reason he gave into that demon bastard?”

Between the pain in his ass, in his groin, and the lack of air from the cock choking him, it took everything Sam Winchester had to stay conscious. Though by this point of his nightmare, he’d be happy if he could pass out… Then the shifter’s words registered. Either the noise he made or the expression on his face gave him away, and he heard the shifter laugh. 

“I guess he didn’t tell you then... that after so long of being tortured, the bastard finally hit Dean’s one and biggest weak spot. _You_ , Sammy. And it wasn’t just that with a snap of his fingers he could have had you screaming on a rack, but because while he was torturing your hero, he had learned Dean’s deepest, darkest secret. That, my little toy, was how much and how long your hero has lusted after his sweet, innocent baby brother.” The shifter paused his tirade, shoving his cock roughly down Sam’s throat and groaning as his balls tightened and he came hard, pulling out only enough to avoid choking the hunter on the come that he filled his mouth with. “Swallow me!” he snapped.

Sam was already nearly numb from pain and shock, but knew if he hadn’t been, what he’d just been told would have done it. Of course he knew monsters, like demons, lied... so a part of him hoped that what the shifter had seen in his brother’s head was just a lie meant to hurt Sam more, to increase the guilt he was wracked with. But Sam knew how broken Dean had looked and sounded when he had revealed what little he had of his time on Alastair’s rack. 

Stepping back but holding Sam’s jaw tightly closed until the hunter had no choice but to finish swallowing, the shifter bent down to give him a harsh kiss, pressing the remote to slow down the fucking machine. He twisted Sam’s chin to meet his dazed and glassy hazel eyes. “Do you want me to tell you the real reason Dean is so disgusted with you and hates you now?” he asked, moving to the back of the bench and smiling cruelly as he watched the dildo come free from Sam’s ass. Blood streaked his captive’s ass and thighs, and the shifter began to stroke his now soft cock with plans to use Sam’s now fully open hole to his advantage.

“Your brother hides a lot of his darker memories, it would’ve taken a much deeper scan to break those locks, but there was plenty of good information on the surface.” He smiled again at the low, weak whimper he heard as he ran a hand over the red, bloody, and swollen hole. “The most beautiful thing I learned was his feelings about giving his life to be tortured, submitting to becoming his torturerer’s fucktoy as much as his student, all while you were up here fucking some demon whore for _fun_.”

All Sam was aware of was pain; the searing pain left from being fucked by the dildo for so long and now the agony of having the shifter force his cock up into his torn and damaged ass. Then, he went numb, the only pain he felt was in the center of his chest as he struggled to breathe, his heart breaking at what he was told. The shifter was lying… he had to be lying.

“So now you know and can peacefully settle into your new role as my personal little hunter fuck toy until I get tired of you. Now you know why Dean is probably already two states away and not even giving a damn about--”

“ _Wanna bet, asshole_?”

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Powerless**

**Chapter Three**

_“Wanna bet, asshole?”_

The deep, cold as steel, pissed off voice that came from the now open basement door was one Sam Winchester would recognize anywhere. Hearing it now both stunned him and caused a wave of sick shame to build within, considering he knew what his brother had just walked in on. A piece of Sam wondered if Dean would just turn and walk back out.

The shapeshifter that was still wearing Dean Winchester’s face looked up in almost confused shock, registering both the man he was pretending to be and the gun that was steadily aimed at him. 

“What…what’re you doing here?” he demanded, staying perfectly still as if certain the clearly pissed off hunter wouldn’t dare shoot him so long as he was close to Sam.

Dean Winchester stared into his own face, something he’d hoped he’d never have to do again, and slipped off the safety at the question. “You have something that belongs to me,” he replied tightly, fighting to keep his temper reined in, but it was clear what the shifter had been doing to his trapped brother. “Step back,” he ordered firmly, torn between just shooting the bastard in the heart and checking on Sam. His brother was making soft noises that both tore the older brother’s heart and also reignited his temper.

“I left enough clues to make you think he’d run away again!” the shifter snapped angrily, furious that his game was being ended. But it was still not ready to throw in the towel yet. “You were supposed to be two states away or drunk in some dive bar! You aren’t supposed to be here trying to take my fuck toy! I was just getting him broken in!”

Dean heard his teeth gritting together at those words but still held his temper and his position, his .45 held steady. He knew the bastard was just trying to distract him and with Sam’s life on the line, Dean couldn’t make a mistake. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll give you that one. You took just the right things to make it look like Sam might’ve left. And considering things recently? I can’t say I would have blamed the kid,” he admitted grimly, hearing a soft whimper and fighting the need to get to his brother. He knew the second he broke eye contact with the damn smirking shapeshifter, the thing would lunge for him. The one thing the pissed off hunter was firm on was that he was _not_ getting into a goddamn physical fight with a naked monster wearing his face.

“Of course, there were just three little things you didn’t do that raised every red flag, you son of a bitch,” Dean growled, stepping farther into the room, immediately fighting not to gag from both the smells and what he could see.

“Oh? And pray tell what were those things, hunter?” the shifter asked with a sneer, feeling a little more confident that he could get the upper hand on the older Winchester if only he could turn his attention. “It doesn’t matter. After all, you can see what I’ve done to him wearing your face. Did he ever tell you what that shifter in St. Louis did to him, Dean?”

Dean had to bite his lip to keep quiet, locking his eyes on his own instead. There was a piece of him that worried just how badly this would affect them, wondered what else the bastard might have said to Sam that Dean would either have to face this time or watch another wedge drive between them.

“Sam wouldn’t take off without his laptop, asshole,” he began, watching the shifter slowly edge away from the rack. It was still too close to Sam than the older brother cared for. “And if he _had_ run off and didn’t want me to come looking for him, he would’ve disconnected the GPS tracker on his phone.” Dean smirked at the now frowning shifter, continuing to stall by playing into the shifter’s twisted game. “Lastly? You didn’t think about the hotel security cameras or that when I went to ask the manager if Sam had been by to say where he might’ve gone, the guy was confused and told me that _I_ told him Sam fell in the shower and I was taking him to the ER for the head wound.

“The second I saw my own face dragging my unconscious little brother out of that room and into some piece of crap car, I knew Sammy hadn’t left under his own power.” He dropped his voice even lower, his tone dangerous as he narrowed his eyes. “Now, ask yourself how fast I plan on killing you after seeing what you’ve done to him? This isn’t revenge, this is you being a sick ass shapeshifting rapist bastard.”

The flash of rage on the shifter’s face was brief. He detested being told the flaws of his plan and even more so, being stalled from ending his kind’s issues with the Winchesters, once and for all. He just needed to get his toy’s so-called rescuer to drop his guard... 

“Why do you care if I’ve fucked his ass, Dean? Can I call you Dean? I mean, we do currently share a face, and I’ve had a piece of little Sammy’s ass like you’ve been wanting to,” he sneered as he watched the hunter’s jaw tighten.

“You should thank me, Winchester,” he laughed, taking another step around the bench, keeping Sam’s body between them. The elder Winchester wouldn’t shoot, not when he could hit Sam. The younger brother made a sound, causing Dean’s eyes to flick to the side. The shifter grinned. “I did what you don’t have the guts to do! And I don’t mean fucking him... I mean telling him the reasons why you hate him! I told him how disappointed and angry you were about his extra curricular demon fucking, all while you were being spit roasted by a demon’s cock down in the pit. He knows your secret, knows if you weren’t so hung up on being the perfect big brother that you would’ve taken his ass at fifteen ...”

Ice cold rage, worse than anything he’d ever felt before, was building up inside Dean. As each of the shifter’s confessions hit he realized this was much worse than anything they’d faced recently.

When Dean realized a shifter had taken his brother using his form, he knew the odds were good the slimy bastard had been close enough to read him, gaining whatever thoughts or memories he had that weren’t locked down tight. He just hadn’t counted on him picking up on _those_ particular ones since those were things Dean had been fighting recently to keep his little brother from learning.

“Sam? Can you hear me, baby brother?” Dean called out, fighting to adjust his tone so he wouldn’t freak his already in shock and traumatized sibling or make Sam even more afraid of him than Dean feared he would be. “Sammy?”

“Oh, he might’ve slipped into a coma. The drug I dosed him with makes him my perfect toy and won’t let him answer unless I say so. His last order was to only moan, but he does moan your name out really well, hero. Wanna hear him?” The shifter smirked, mentally gauging the distance between itself and the shaking with rage hunter when a soft whimper was heard. He scowled when Dean’s lips curved into a smug smile. “I will make him watch as I cut you into little pieces for the gator!” he growled. 

“No. You aren’t killing me and you sure as hell aren’t touching what’s mine again,” Dean returned coldly, shifting his lean body to the side the second he recognized the muscles of the shifter tensing, readying himself to lunge and disarm him. “You, you sociopathic sadist, are going to die with a goddamn silver bullet in your heart, maybe even your balls. If I had the time and wanted to use the skills I picked up in Hell… Considering what you’ve done to my brother, I’m tempted. But first…” 

The .45 going off sounded like a cannon in the basement prison room, but was muffled to Sam’s ears. It served to help drag him into consciousness from where he’d started to drift again.

Sam thought he heard Dean’s voice, but quickly filed that under wishful thinking, until he heard the sound of his brother’s Colt. There was a shill scream and Sam half wondered if it was him. Someone was speaking to him… and he tried to focus.

“Sammy, I need you to pay attention to what I’m about to say. I’m going to take care of this asshole, then I’ll get you someplace safe.” Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was registering him or not and he turned to meet the hateful glare of the now bleeding shapeshifter, smirking at the bleeding wound in the creature’s knee. 

“There will never be anywhere safe for either of you!” the shifter growled, attempting to stand, only to go back down with another scream as a second silver bullet struck his other knee. “He will never be safe! You hate him! You -” 

“ _No_. That’s where you and every angel and demon seem to have it wrong. I don’t hate my brother, I hate myself,” Dean replied simply, keeping both his eyes and his pistol locked on the bleeding monster. “Your son of a bitch pal in St. Louis told him I hated him, that I resented him going to a big, fancy college out west while I gave up any chance I had to get out of this life. I figure you’ve given him the same song and dance with a few other little bombshells. The thing is, twinkle eyes, I will admit that where your pal lied, you actually told him the truth. Though I’d rather face Hell again than for Sam to ever know the truth…”

Dean knew he was taking a risk by moving his eyes away from the shifter, but he wanted to take a quick look to see at how conscious his younger brother was. He needed to get him unhooked but knew he had to handle the shifter first.

Sam’s eyes were open, but they were also blown wide from either shock, the drugs, or the more likely combination of both. Recalling what the shifter said about Sam only able to follow commands, the hunter had to bite back his anger at his little brother having to encounter this nightmare.

“Okay, little brother, I know you probably can’t talk yet, so I just want you to listen and try to blink one time for me,” Dean began in a much calmer tone than he really felt. This close to his brother, he was able to get a better look at Sam’s injuries and realized he needed to get him loose and as far away from this place as possible. “Can you hear me?” he asked.

It took a minute or two but finally, Dean saw Sam’s face muscles struggling. Then, slowly, Sam’s eyelids closed and reopened. It wasn’t much, but it was huge to the hunter right then. 

“Can you understand me, Sammy?” This was a slightly more important question since Dean needed his brother to understand what he was about to say.

He waited for another blink before beginning to smile, noticing the tears collecting in Sam’s eyes. A single drop rolled free and Dean’s heart clenched. He could only imagine the pain, physical and emotional, his brother was in right then.

“Okay, one more question before I finish this up and get you out of here.” Dean moved his eyes over to the shifter, reaching up to grip the cold, clammy hand closest to him. “Do you believe I’m me?”

“How many times do you expect him to fall for that trick?” The shifter laughed, trying to pry the silver from his wounds so he could heal. “Maybe you are another member of my family, come to lure him into a false sense of - _argh!_ ”

This time, Dean fired into a shoulder while giving Sam’s hand a quick squeeze. He wished he hadn’t actually asked that damn question now, hoped Sam hadn’t heard the shifter’s words. 

“My next shot will be your heart, jackass!” he snapped, moving more into Sam’s direct line of sight. “As soon as I plant a final bullet in you, I will prove to my brother that I’m me but -” He stopped at the feeling of weak fingers trying to squeeze his and knew, at least for the moment, that despite any doubt or fear Sam was willing to trust that he wasn’t being tricked.

“Now you might be wondering why you aren’t already a pile of skin on this goddamn floor...” Dean understood the risk he’d placed them both in by not immediately killing the shifter on sight but he really did have a plan.

Grimacing in pain from the silver burning its blood, the shifter shot a sneer towards the too calm hunter. “Maybe because it turned you on to see what it would look like if you ever -”

Another shot fired into the shifter’s other shoulder as Dean’s jaw twitched. “You are a sick ass monster, I will give you that,” he replied tightly. 

“Oh, like you aren’t for wanting to fuck your own brother or for what you did in Hell to save his useless ass?” the shifter sneered, expecting a final bullet to come, only to find itself frowning when the obviously furious hunter merely curved his lips up into a cold smile.

“I never said I wasn’t, jackass,” Dean responded coldly, giving the cold fingers he still held another light squeeze to reassure his brother. “In fact, that was the main reason I didn’t want Sammy to ever know how I felt for him or what happened to me in Hell after I got off Alastair’s rack or why I finally did give in to Alastair. How I felt for him was why I did make sure he got to go to that fancy school out West.

“I never hated or resented Sam, like your pal tried to fill his head with two years ago. I resented our father for tossing out the declaration that cost me my brother for four years and I hated myself for not having the guts to be willing to take a risk and go with him.” The hunter gave another, firmer squeeze to Sam’s hand before leaning closer to whisper something he hoped his brother would remember.

Dean slowly stepped away from Sam, careful to stay out of grabbing distance of the injured shifter as he aimed his pistol again. He held the creature’s gaze as he went on speaking, tone growing harder and colder. “The only reason I’ve kept you alive this long and let you hear my speech is because I know there’s a link between all of you shapeshifters. While you might not share a library of memories with one another, you _do_ pick up details. Otherwise you wouldn’t have known what was said or done to Sam in St. Louis. 

“I want the rest of your little ‘family’ to understand one goddamn fucking thing and stop any half-assed future plans to come after my brother.” Dean took one half step closer, cocking the .45 and aiming it steadily at the now hissing shifter. “It doesn’t matter if we fight or if I’m not thrilled with a choice he makes, it doesn’t matter what some douchebag angel says, what interference the demons try to run. It doesn’t even matter if Sam thinks differently, or if he’s afraid after this situation -- Sam will forever be my goddamn pain in the ass little brother. I _will_ have his back and I _will_ protect him, no matter what. 

“You opened a couple cans of worms that I would have preferred to stay shut, but now I’ll just have to see where the chips lay and face ‘em. There’s a lot of things I should’ve faced recently, but despite what I might’ve said under the influence of monsters or booze? I don’t hate Sam for what he did while I was in Hell. I know he coped as well as he could’ve considering I didn’t prepare him for life without me! 

“I made the choice to make the deal because he’s my brother and I love him. I gave in after thirty years of pain, deals, and threats because yes, Alastair did learn of my not so brotherly feelings for Sam. But it was more than that. I wouldn’t risk even the _threat_ of Alastair grabbing Sam and torturing him.” Dean silently prayed that Sam could hear him and would retain his confession. He _would_ repeat himself, if need be, he just preferred not to. He watched the shifter’s face, seeing as it finally dawned that his end was coming closer. 

“I don’t have a chance to even see if he shares those feelings, not thanks to your pal in St Louis and you for what you’ve done to him here. But you can take this bit of knowledge with you to your own monster hell and pass this message along to your pals for future reference: Sam is mine and I will kill for him!” Dean pulled the trigger one final time, watching the shifter’s body jerk as the silver round struck its heart. As the creature fell, Dean emptied the rest of the rounds into it, just to be sure. 

The second he heard the .45 click empty, Dean shoved the weapon into the back of his jeans and whirled back to the bench and to Sam. Now that the threat of the shifter was gone, the hunter had to remind himself to keep his temper in check, knowing any sign of anger would upset Sam. “Sammy!” he shouted, noticing that Sam’s head was hanging down as much as the metal bar and strap would allow it.

A quick look around the sadistic shifter’s prison showed the hunter a set of keys on a ring, hanging near the door, and he hoped it would open the locks; anything to save him time from having to pick the damn things.

From the same wall, Dean saw a blanket and he grabbed it. He hated having anything from this room touch Sam, but he needed something to get Sammy to the Impala where he could grab something clean and theirs. “Hey! Hey, little brother, you still with me?” he asked, wanting to kick himself as he remembered about the drug and again for not finding out from the bastard how to counteract it.

“Sam? Sammy?” he stepped in front of him, carefully lifting his brother’s cold, sickly pale face in one hand, using his free hand to push slightly shaking fingers back through Sam’s dark hair. While Sam’s eyes were still open, they were definitely also a lot more unfocused than he cared for.

“Okay, if you can hear me a little, I want you to know that I’m getting you out of here. Okay, Sammy? Just hold on… I have to get these damn locks off you. And I’m sorry, Sam. There’s going to be pain…” Dean looked over brother’s battered body and winced, amending, “Alright, a lot of pain, but as soon as we’re far from here I’ll give you some of the good pills,” Dean promised, ignoring the fact he was rambling. He knew from past experience that if Sam was hurt too badly or scared, hearing his voice would help keep his brother calm. 

Unsure if Sam had slipped inside his own head to avoid the pain and memories or was somewhat conscious, Dean tried to keep a steady stream of conversation going to reassure both Sam and himself things were okay. As he talked, he leaned in to begin trying out the keys on the locks holding Sam’s wrists and throat. 

Sam had barely made any sounds as Dean was working on the locks. It took the hunter less time than he had thought it would to get his brother free from the goddamn bench. Sam only made a soft whimper when the tight cock ring was removed, and Dean released more than a few curses and muttered a promise to rip the lungs off of the next goddamn fucking monster they came across.

Conscious thought wasn’t with Sam, even though he could hear Dean speaking to him, explaining what each touch was as he worked to free him. Shock, pain, and drugs had him just at the fringe of a dark void that part of Sam longed for. He’d heard Dean speaking to his captor, but Sam wasn’t sure if he had heard it all correctly. He did hear what his brother had whispered in his ear before he’d gone to finish the shifter.

“‘ _I love you. This isn’t your fault, and I will make it right_.’”

Sam wasn’t sure what wasn’t his fault since _so much_ had been recently. As far as making things right, if what that shifter had said about Dean’s time in Hell, Sam was just shocked that Dean had looked for him… 

“I will always look for you, Sammy.” Dean’s voice came from close beside him and through Sam’s foggy thoughts. He started becoming more aware and realized he was being carried bridal-style out of a battered looking stone building into muggy, sticky night air. The breath of fresh air was a relief, a welcome change from the festering stench of the room that would be in his nightmares for years to come.

“There’s no sound but your lips are moving, so I know what you said, little brother.” Dean reassured his brother with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He’d noticed that while Sam didn’t look fully with it, his lips were moving a little more. Halfway from the building to the car, Dean took a break from the burning in his muscles from trying to heft his 6’4” baby brother out of that cesspit basement. As he looked down at Sam, he realized the younger hunter was mouthing words, talking about his thoughts like he’d often done when he’d had nightmares as a teenager. 

Pleased that he’d managed to get them out of that room, up and out of the basement, and out of the house, Dean looked up to see they were almost there. His risk of parking close to the building, possibly ruining the element of surprise, definitely paid off. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to carry Sam’s almost-dead weight any further if he’d parked a block away. 

“I’m sorry I ever gave you that impression, Sam. I know the past couple of days… the crap we’ve been through… has been _bad_ , and I know we’ve done a rodeo like this before and there was always a chance of me falling for that scene back at the motel. But Sammy, I meant what I told that bastard… and I’ll tell any goddamn shifter, angel, demon, or witch. Hell, even goddamn fabric softener teddy bears, that I will kill to keep you safe.” Dean was careful to keep his tone even, choosing his words carefully since he knew this wasn’t the time to get into anything heavy. “We’ll talk, baby brother. I will… answer whatever questions you have. But right now, let’s get you into the Impala. I’ll toss a match into this place and try to find a clinic or… dude, don’t bitch face me right now. You need more care than I can do in the back of the car or a motel. I have no idea what that damn machine did to you internally.” 

Sam knew he needed an ER, or at least a clinic, but he would’ve preferred just letting Dean do the patching up. Though, he was sure Dean would be more leery of these wounds, even more so then the ones he’d taken care of from Sam’s captivity by the Benders.

‘ _Clinic_.’ He hoped he mouthed and figured his brother had understood. Sam winced at how weak and shaky his legs felt when Dean leaned him against the rear of the car to open the back door. Dean froze when Sam reached for his arm without even realizing he’d moved.

Feeling the shaky hand on his arm, Dean glanced over to see glassy hazel eyes move to the front of the car and understood that his brother didn’t want to be in the backseat. He debated arguing, since it would be more comfortable for Sam if he stretched out in the back, but the older brother inside Dean thought he knew why Sam wanted to be up front. 

“Okay, front it is then, Sammy,” Dean murmured, opening the passenger side door and helping Sam in as carefully as possible, switching the blanket with one he kept in the trunk. He quickly grabbed the battered leather jacket, originally their father’s but had been Dean’s for longer than the Impala had been, from the back seat. “Here, keep this over you, too.” He smiled a little upon seeing weak fingers trying to grasp onto the jacket. 

With Sam bundled in place, Dean grabbed a bottle of lukewarm water from the trunk as well, but hesitated. He wasn’t certain if his brother was hurt internally but decided dehydration right then was a bigger concern. He knelt beside the open door and held the bottle to Sam’s mouth. Sam took a small mouthful and managed to swallow it without choking.

Dean waited until Sam had taken a few more sips before capping the water, letting his hand rest on his brother’s shaking shoulder for another moment before closing the door and moving around to slide behind the wheel. He nixed his own plan to burn the place to the ground in favor of getting his brother the help he needed.

Turning the radio on just to have noise, Dean was trying to get a better handle on where they were and which direction to drive when he heard a sound. Glancing over, he watched as Sam was struggling to move and was grateful the drug was slowly wearing off. 

He had placed Sam tilted, leaning to one side as much as possible since Dean knew the damage from both that machine and the shifter to Sam’s ass was bad. But Sam was turning, shifting the other way, and Dean had to fight back a rush of raw emotion as he realized it wasn’t pain his brother was moving from, but from wanting to be closer to him.

In the past, as kids and even more recently, his brother would use his shoulder as a pillow. Dean merely reached over to slide a cautious arm around his shaking brother and understood the next few days, hell _weeks,_ weren’t going to be easy for either of them. 

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’ve got you and it’s going to be okay,” he promised, fighting back his own tears as he felt Sam’s, hot against his neck. With an effort, Sam finally got to the place he wanted to be. Even if the younger man wasn’t aware of the tears he was shedding, or the barely audible, halting words he was whispering, he hopefully knew he was safe.

“I’ve got you,” Dean repeated, softly. He waited until they were well away from the tiny bayou town to grab his phone from his pocket, thankfully successfully not disturbing Sam as he seemed to be finally sleeping.

Pulling the car off the road to avoid a wreck, he left it running so the noise would stay a steady sound for his sleeping brother. Dean hesitated a second before making a choice and hitting **SEND**.

“Hey, Bobby, it’s me. Hey, Sammy and I need some help.”

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Powerless**

**Chapter Four**

**Four-weeks later:**

“Was what it said true?” 

He paused, the beer bottle that had almost been to his lips stopping at the question. The voice came softly from behind a half closed motel bathroom door and Dean looked up at it. With a soft sigh, he simply placed the bottle on the scarred table and knew the time that he’d been waiting weeks for had finally come.

Calling Bobby Singer got him the name and address of a small clinic Bobby knew the doctor of and felt it would be safe for what the boys needed. Though the grumpy older hunter had to pull what details he got out of Dean, he was a smart man. 

By the time they’d reached the small clinic in Tennessee, Sam had spiked a fever and started hallucinating. Something that had his older brother freaking out a lot more than Dean would ever willingly admit to anyone. 

Relieved that Bobby had called ahead to tell his friend about his soon to be new patient and the details as he knew them. Dean was just glad the older man had treated hunters before and didn’t ask him any other questions other than Sam’s past medical history and medications all of which were things the hunter could rattle off in his sleep.

He had objected when he was told he couldn’t stay with Sam during treatment, but gave up that fight when a stern faced older nurse stared him down. He sighed and went to stalk the small waiting room, returning the many voicemails Bobby had been leaving him. 

Dean had been drifting, fighting sleep, and planning several different scenarios in his head depending on how things went between them once he and Sam were out of the clinic. He planned to follow Bobby’s shouted orders to ‘get their asses to his place’ to let things settle down and have Sam start to heal before they had to tackle the next Apocalypse mess.

“Sam said I could tell you the details of his case,” the doctor said from the door. The grim set of his jaw told the hunter the news probably wouldn’t be good.

Based on what he’d walked in on, Dean knew his brother had been sexually assaulted by the shapeshifter, but he hadn’t known how many times or to the degree. He had assumed the damn fucking machine had been used and as he was told about the severe tearing in Sam’s anal cavity, he had to bite his tongue to keep from snarling too much.

He stoically listened to the doctor explain about the mild concussion, broken ribs, burns around the base of Sam’s cock, and tears inside his colon. He went on about the various wraps, ointment, medications and treatments they would be doing. Dean nodded as the standard lectures were given, holding his breath as the blood results were given, showing that Sam’s tox screen had come back mostly clean meant the drugs were nearly out of his brother’s system.

Dean paid the frowning nurse to not remove him from the hospital after his fist had gone through the wall. He was grateful that part of the rape kit showed Sam free of any STDs because while he knew what had happened, the older brother in him didn’t want to think of that goddamn shifter giving his brother more than nightmares. 

It had been Sam that had made the decision to release himself AMA against both Dean and the doctor’s wishes. He had resorted to using his ultimate secret weapon, causing his brother to relent. A few hours later they were on the road to South Dakota. 

“I hate that I taught you the use of those goddamn sad eyes, Sam,” Dean had complained but then simply let Sam use his shoulder for a pillow for the rest of the trip.

The physical wounds were bad, but it was the mental and emotional ones that Sam had a harder time handling. He’d always been prone to nightmares but these seemed worse; especially the ones where he couldn’t wake up or was confused when he did and started screaming when Dean would try to touch him to help him.

Sometimes, Dean would end up bleeding from a wild fist to the face and it usually resulted in Sam withdrawing more into himself. Sam would be quiet, pensive, as if he were trying not to ask his brother about the things the shifter had said or that he might have heard Dean say.

“You need to either talk to that boy or get him to open up about what happened, or else neither of you will be safe to hunt or be on the road again. He’s a walking red light for angst and guilt to be used by those goddamn featherheads and the other side,” Bobby Singer said one morning when Dean came into the kitchen after a bad night. The ordeal hadn’t been helped by a trench coat wearing angel visiting and reminding Dean the apocalypse was still at large. The constant calls on Sam’s phone from a demon made Dean vow to stab her until finally Sam had broken his phone, put his fist through a glass window of an old car out in the lot, and used his brother’s back for a punching bag as Dean grabbed him and held on tight. Sam fought and cried, lashing out with all of his bottled up emotions; not only from the shifter’s attack, but from the night Dean was first dragged to Hell and Sam’s life literally blew up.

“I know what happened to him, and forcing Sammy to talk doesn’t usually turn out well,” Dean replied tightly, grimacing at the coffee while keeping an ear out for sounds from upstairs. “I also know what he’s brooding about but he’s scared to broach either of those things while we’re here. He probably figures I’ll blow up on him about the one and you about the other, so I figure once we’re back on the road, once he sees I’m not dumping him, going to hurt him, he’ll start to talk. He probably thinks I’m gonna blame him for wasting time or whatever...” 

As it turned out, it was another week and a half before that bridge was crossed and as Dean lowered the bottle of beer back to the table, he wasn’t sure to be relieved or terrified.

“Which part?” Dean returned, glancing towards the half open bathroom door and giving a small grin at the soft breath of frustration he heard. He could visualize Sam leaning on the small bathroom sink, in probably just a towel, since he knew his brother had gone in to take a shower after their salt and burn had ended with Sam getting thrown by a pissed off ghost before Dean had lit her bones.

“Either. Any. All of it,” Sam replied, staring at his reflection and wondering if he looked as pale as he thought he did. 

“Do you remember hearing anything I said to the bastard toward the end, Sammy?” Dean asked calmly, keeping his tone light since he could tell by how soft Sam’s voice was that he brother was battling doubts and nerves. He knew by the sidelong glances in the car lately that Sam was also about at the end of his rope waiting for whatever shoe he feared would drop. 

Sam did actually have a lot of memory around hearing his brother in that place, more than he had let on to either the staff at the clinic or to Bobby. He thought he’d heard Dean admit to the shifter that the memories it had scanned from him had been true, but still a huge piece of Sam feared that he’d misheard or had just imagined it to keep himself sane during that horror. 

“Y-yeah, I… I think I do,” he murmured, glancing down at the still faint marks on his wrists from where he’d fought in the ropes. 

“But you need to hear me say those words to you.” Dean let out a soft grunt that Sam knew could mean anything. Hearing the chair by the table had been pushed back, Sam nearly panicked. He didn’t want to start a fight with Dean or have his brother go back to being the cold, hard ass bastard he had been. But before he could think of something to say to back out or tell Dean to forget it, there was a warm hand pressing against the center of his chest. At hearing Dean’s voice, he became aware that he’d started hyperventilating.

“Breathe for me, Sammy. Just take a few, slow breaths for me and calm down, little brother,” Dean urged. “That’s it. Just calm down and breathe. You’re safe with me, baby boy.” He went on after another few seconds, eyes locked on Sam’s pale face in the mirror. His gaze flicked down and he noticed his brother’s bare chest wasn’t heaving like it had been when Dean stepped into the bathroom.

Dean smiled when Sam’s eyes snapped open to immediately lock with his, and he loved the confused little furrow between his younger brother’s eyes.

“Okay, I want you to just focus on breathing and listen to me,” Dean began slowly, careful to keep his tone even. He kept his hand pressed against the center of Sam’s chest, a grounding comfort for them both. It gave him something to focus on instead of the fact that all his brother had on right then was a towel.

“Should I have you do the silver knife or salt water rinse again?” Sam asked quietly, very much aware now of where they were and what little he had on. He wasn’t sure if standing this close to his brother in a towel was a good idea, not if they were going to end up in a fight. But he couldn’t shake the feeling he got when Dean used ‘baby boy’. It was something Sam hadn’t heard him use in years, not since he’d been sixteen and his Dean was drunk.

“No, but I will if you want me to,” Dean replied easily, knowing that Sam was still cautious. His comfort, however, was what mattered and if he needed Dean to? Dean would prove he was himself a million times over. “Do you want me to, Sammy?” he asked. While Sam’s breathing had began to regulate, his heart was beating a little faster beneath Dean’s palm.

Sam debated briefly before glancing down to see the silver ring on his brother’s hand and the small bronze amulet hanging from his neck. He took a moment before finally shaking his head. “No. No, I think we’re good. Dean, I don’t want a fight. You don’t have to -”

“Yes, what the bastard said to you was true,” Dean interrupted, stopping Sam from saying he didn’t have to answer. “I need you to stay calm and listen, because regardless of what I tell you, which still won’t be everything, there won’t be a fight, there will be no guilt or shame placed on you.”

Dean paused, taking a slow, deep breath of his own and hoping he could do this. As he lifted his free hand to push Sam’s hair back from his face, he noticed how his fingers were trembling.

“First, let me say that _yes_ , even when I got off the rack and began doing Alastair’s dirty work, his torture didn’t stop. Most of it is crap we don’t need to go over right now, not when you’re still raw from what happened to you,” Dean began, fighting to keep his voice even; these were things he didn’t like remembering much less having to bring up to his brother at all. “No, nothing that happened to me in Hell, while I was on the rack or after, was your fault. I knew the risks when I made the deal and I knew some of what I was getting into when I finally gave into the bastard when he threatened you.

“Yeah, okay, I wasn’t expecting everything he did to me but, like anything else in my life, if it kept you safe? I was going to deal with the consequences,” he went on, shaking his head when he saw Sam about to speak. “Hear me out and then you can cross examine me, okay?” 

Sam bit back his argument, wondering how Dean could possibly say there was no guilt or fault that laid with him… But meeting the sharp green eyes that were pinned on his face clued him in that this was much harder for Dean than he was letting on. He gave a slight nod and reached forward, his fingers slipping through one of Dean’s belt loops, needing that connection.

“It was never a secret in Hell that you were my biggest weakness. Alastair knew you were the reason I made the deal, so I don’t know why he waited so long to use it against me. The second he told me how easy it would be for him to have you down there and what he planned to do to you? I didn’t give a damn about myself. I was not letting him or his cronies touch you, Sammy.

“I would take all his pain, all the shame. He was not touching you.” Dean had to stop, too many memories hitting him at once. He made a move to step back, but the second he went to drop his hand from Sam’s chest, strong fingers caught him, twisting their fingers together. Dean’s heart almost shattered at the show of support. “Sammy.” 

“You… you agreed when the shifter said if he was a sick ass monster then so were you. You agreed with him, Dean,” Sam was understanding more now why his older brother had been so on edge, so much harder when he returned from Hell. Watching Dean’s face as he spoke also told Sam how much they’d both been played. If there was one thing Sam was certain of, is that Dean was not weak. Now he just had to risk damaging the calm by touching the next topic.

“Yeah, I agreed because in so many ways I do feel like it,” Dean glanced at their joined fingers before moving his eyes back to Sam. He took a deep breath and took a half-step forward that brought him close enough that Sam’s bare chest that he brushed him with the black t-shirt he still wore. “Between what I did down there, to what was done to me, I’m broken, Sammy. And it makes it harder for me to control things, myself.” He felt Sam tense just slightly at the closeness but wasn’t sure if he was uncomfortable with Dean so close or a flash of memory. 

“The other thing the shifter said to you...” He hesitated again, biting back a groan when he looked up to see Sam chewing on his bottom lip.

“That you had feelings for me that weren’t so brotherly?” Sam had heard this part of his brother’s speech to the shifter as well, and this was the part he silently hoped he hadn’t misheard. “Was that true, Dean?” he asked, voice dropping softer. He slowly lowered his eyes until a hand caught his chin, lifting so their eyes were once again locked. Sam swore his heart slammed into his throat at the depth of emotion he could see from deep green eyes. 

Dean licked his lower lip, smiling as he watched Sam watch the movement. Dean smoothed his thumb over a bruise on his cheek and silently wondered which of them shook more. “Yeah, that was true,” he admitted, voice dropping lower as emotions began to hit him. He knew in the back of his head that he needed to move back and let Sam process. Instead, he took a step closer, pressing his knee between Sam’s legs. The towel now did very little to hide his brother’s reaction to being this close. 

“Did… oh my God. Did you mean it when you said that you hated yourself for not leaving with me?” Sam asked, gasping as he felt rough denim slipping between his legs. He silently prayed he wasn’t dreaming. “You… you would’ve left Dad to come with me?”

“If I had been sure he wouldn’t come after us or could keep him from lashing out at you? If I had the guts to stand up for myself like I did for you? Then oh hell yeah, I would’ve left with you,” Dean replied, his voice huskier one that Sam hadn’t heard in a long time. “If I’d been smart, I would’ve grabbed you and gotten us both the hell out of there the moment I hit eighteen.”

Sam didn’t really think their Dad would’ve allowed that, but he understood why Dean felt that way. Though right then, he didn’t want thoughts of their dad. He was focused on the way his body was now heating up, reacting to how close Dean was. But what nearly did the younger Winchester in was the feel of soft, hot lips just ghosting along the hard line of his jaw, making him shiver 

“Do you… do you still feel that way?” he asked, groaning at how stupid that question was considering their positions, but shivered once more at the low laugh it earned him.

“Sammy, if I didn’t? I wouldn’t be debating on how to ask you to let me kiss you.” Dean chuckled, focused on moving his lips down Sam’s neck but not actually touching his brother’s skin.

Sam blinked at that, fingers itching to reach up to touch the amulet just as an excuse to touch his brother. “You… you want to kiss me?” he seemed so shocked that Dean actually stopped what he was doing to look at him. 

“I have wanted to kiss you since you were fifteen, Sam,” Dean admitted with a slow smile that was the one he only allowed his brother to see. “Can I?” he asked but this time, his honey-coated voice sounded like pure sex. 

“God, yes!” Sam figured even if this was a dream, he’d be happy; he’d only been dreaming of feeling his brother’s mouth on his since he’d been a teenager. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he figured it had to be better than what the shifter had done with his mouth or the few sloppy kisses he’d experimented with during Freshman year at Stanford. He gasped, blinking at the gentle fingers brushing over his face and realized his brother was watching him, gauging things. 

“No pain or shame, baby boy,” Dean murmured before slowly letting his mouth brush over Sam’s in a simple, light, almost playful kiss. It was cautious, testing to make sure Sam really was okay with this. Dean was careful to watch Sam’s face during the first few light kisses, careful not to deepen the kiss or take it any further. He smiled as he felt shaking fingers curl into his T-shirt, Sam finally returning the kiss slowly, hesitantly as if unsure.

A late night nightmare had told Dean what the shifter had made Sam do, so he was leery of going too far, too fast. But then he heard a soft, almost frustrated whimper against his mouth and understood. “Shh, just relax and don’t overthink. Don’t let what it did scare you, because trust me, baby brother, what we will do one day will be nothing like that,” he promised, his hand moving up to curve around the back of Sam’s neck, bringing him closer for another kiss. This one he deepened, just a little more, and heard a soft moan of pleasure that soon had the elder brother’s jeans tightening.

Finally having to break the kiss to give them both a chance to breathe, Dean was pleased to see more golds and blues in Sam’s hazel eyes which spoke of his pleasure, not a single trace of fear. “Okay, Sammy?” he asked with a soft smile, fingers of the hand that still held Sam’s giving a quick squeeze. He felt something loosen inside his chest at the first sign of a dimpled smile aimed at him.

“Those girls in all those schools were wrong,” Sam began after a couple seconds, his brain still needing a moment to come back on circuit after, what he knew was a simple kiss, nothing like he knew his brother was capable of. “You kiss so much better than they said.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up with that comment but then he let his lips curve into a slow, sinful smirk. Usually the look made Sam roll his eyes, but this time got a shy smile back at him. “Sammy, I have gotten so much better at kissing than when I was sixteen, dude,” he teased lightly, feeling the fingers gripping his shirt give a light tug, glancing down to see the damp spot on the tented towel. He had to remind himself to take this slow. Too bad for Dean that his little brother wasn’t seeing it that way.

“What else have you gotten better at, Dean?” Sam asked quietly, gasping as he shifted and rubbed his very interested cock against Dean’s thigh. “No, wait. Before you say it’s too soon to do anything else…” he caught his brother’s t-shirt with both hands when Dean seemed to hesitate. “I want to be able to sleep tonight without waking up screaming. I mean, I’m not stupid,I know I’ll still have nightmares, but I… I… just need… I need you to… to…” He stopped, frustrated at his lack of words. But suddenly it seemed like no other words were needed as Sam felt his brother’s hands frame his face a second before he found himself being kissed and kissed well.

By the time Dean broke the kiss, Sam was being lowered to his bed; sometime in between the bathroom and the short distance to the beds, he’d lost his towel. His focus was now completely on the way Dean’s fingers were teasing the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion. Sam swallowed hard, having to be quick on his feet not to say what was on the tip of his tongue, setting himself up for a lifetime of teasing.

“You do know your poker face sucks, right, Sam?” Dean asked with a laugh after he tossed his shirt over to the other bed, reaching for the snap of his jeans. He paused, reaching out to brush Sam’s hair back out of his eyes. “You’re blushing now, so I’ll just go ahead and say this: if anything I say leaves this room? Your hair is getting chopped the next time you get drunk and pass out,” he warned in mock sternness. “You’re gorgeous, Sammy.”

Sam had been debating a reply to defend his hair only to go silent at this, realizing his brother was serious. It was the most open that he’d seen Dean in years. Deciding to keep his mouth shut to avoid saying anything that might break the mood or embarrass either of them, he simply moved a hand and immediately felt it caught and held.

Dean hadn’t been planning to go this far tonight. In fact, he had been planning to work up to actual sex. But hearing Sam in the bathroom, watching the raw emotions that crossed his face and recalling some of what had been said at night during his nightmares, Dean thought he understood why his brother wanted him to make love with him.

The term made Dean pause as he began to slowly let Sam get used to being with him, to having his hands on him in a way that didn’t hurt or humiliate him. Usually when he had sex, either now or back in high school, it was fast and just for release. Oh, he’d always made sure the girl he’d been with enjoyed it, but he never really thought much of it. Not until he began paying more attention to every move Sam made, every sound that fell from his lips with each touch or kiss they shared.

“Dude! I’m not a girl!” Sam burst out as he realized Dean was taking his time, being gentle and careful as his lube-slicked fingers started opening Sam’s body up. “Just fuck me and _mmhm_!” 

A searing kiss caught the younger Winchester’s mouth, cutting the words off. The move also served to calm him, and the kiss softened as soon as he started to relax back against the mattress. 

“No, it will never be just fucking when we do this, Sammy,” Dean corrected in a voice full of emotion. He caught Sam’s face so their eyes could lock, and he made sure Sam was listening. “I will make love with you tonight, and any other night you want. And _only_ because you are my pain in the ass little brother, I suppose it you want and ask nicely there might even be some post sex cuddling.” 

Now it was Sam’s turn to wing his eyebrow up but he wasn’t stupid enough to turn that offer down, assuming he survived the actual making love part. He was half certain he was going to explode if his suddenly too patient sibling didn’t do something.

Only one time did Dean stop to ask Sam if he was alright with continuing, and that was after Sam had rolled to his knees with his arms braced on the headboard, Dean’s cock pushing against the hole he spent as much time as he could stretching and prepping. 

There was a brief flash of pain, of cruel mocking words, but Sam forced his mind to focus on the warm, soft voice murmuring reassurances in his ear. Dean’s lips glided over the back of his neck, offering light kisses before sucking the skin at the base of Sam’s neck, until he was nodding that it was okay to go on.

“Mine, Sammy,” Dean growled lowly once when Sam, in frustration over how slow he thought things were going, made a comment again that he wasn’t a girl. “No. N, but you are mine. My little brother. My partner and now my lover. And no one, not angels or demons, or monsters, will tear us apart, Sam.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Sam’s throat while moving the hand that was stroking Sam’s cock faster until he could tell his brother was at the end of his rope. “Come for me, little brother.”

A final, firm stroke at the same time as Dean’s cock hit Sam’s prostate had the younger Winchester shouting Dean’s name, spilling hot come over his brother’s hand, Behind him, Dean let his eyes close against both his emotion and what he could feel from Sam. He felt his own balls tighten a second before he followed Sam over that cliff as he climaxed in a way that Dean couldn’t recall doing in a long time.

The next few moments were silent except for the sound of flesh meeting flesh. No words were needed between the brothers. Dean had a brief moment to remember being boys in the back of the Impala when simple touches had been all that was needed to soothe his brother. 

He moved his hand away from Sam’s cock when he heard his brother make a sound that was more pain than pleasure, and managed to support them both as he pulled out of his brother’s body. He cursed when he caught a sight of white a second before Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head and he was literally dead weight in Dean’s arms.

“Sammy?!” he called, grunting as he managed to not lose his balance while trying to adjust their positions on the one double bed without having to let go of his brother yet.

A quick swipe of his hand on the bedspread to clean it, he carded his fingers back through Sam’s sweat soaked hair to see his brother’s face was calm, relaxed, with just a hint of a smile on his lips. He realized the force of his climax on top of all the stress and not sleeping had knocked his brother out. Dean blew out the breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“He’s going to give me a damn stroke one of these days,” he muttered but smiled at the feeling of the warm, hard body trying to snuggle back against his chest and knew he had to do a fast clean up. “Uh-huh, little brother, I’ll hold you! But not until I grab something to wipe us off with.” Dean chuckled at the softly muttered complaint he heard once he gently slid out to grab his t-shirt and almost instantly Sam complained about the loss of connection. “I love you, but I am not getting glued to you if this stuff dries.” 

Sam’s brain was slow to come back online and he had to take a second to try to remember things. It had been a long time since he could recall sleeping without waking up screaming. He knew he’d been dressed in his sleep pants, but his chest was bare. When a gentle touch of a hand over his heart and lips kissed his neck, his eyes started burning with tears when he realized Dean had kept his promise to hold him after they’d made love.

“You okay?” Dean asked quietly from where he had settled behind Sam, holding his brother against his chest. “These tears I should be worried about, Sam?” he asked, meeting Sam’s kiss with a soft smile as his brother shifted to roll towards him. “Guess not?”

“I’m good,” Sam replied and wondered if he’d ever get used to this side of his brother as Dean brushed the tears off his cheek with his fingertips. “Are we, Dean?” He had to know, even as he was being tugged more into his brother’s arms, Dean shifting them so Sam could lay against his chest, his head over Dean’s heart - a position he’d loved to lay in when they were kids.

Dean suspected it wouldn’t be easy; they seemed to have too many sides trying to drive them apart. But as he laid still, watching Sam fall back to sleep, he considered how easy it had been for his brother to be a target for that shifter because of how far they’d been pushed apart. He smiled and nodded, kissing his brother’s head softly. 

“Yeah, Sammy. We’re good and it’s all gonna be good from now on.” 

**The End**

**A/N:** _Another huge thank you to[Lotrspnfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/works) for the awesome beta work!!_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope to have other new stories to share soon and won't disappear for as long.


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